


This Is a Title We Can't Win

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (in my dreams that is), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enemies, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everybody's Friends and Everything Is A-Ok, Explosions, Happy Ending AU, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:29:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes weren't the only things destroyed in that explosion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is a Title We Can't Win

**Author's Note:**

> "What do you mean I'm obsessed with Overwatch hahaha" I say, as Solider: 76 fan art falls out of my coat "I-I mean" I go on, frantically scrapping up the scattered pictures "it's just a game" I messily stuff them all back into my coat "just a lame shooter"

 

There's a fuckton of smoke.

 

That, and the screams of everything Jack once knew. Overwatch, in shambles around them, and it was the both of them that bought it down on their heads.

 

 _Hero_ , they shouted at him, _Saviour, redeemer, solider_

 

 _Traitor_ , Gabriel shouted back, with his weapons raised, _bastard, my friend, my brother_

 

The remnants of Jack's life groan around him under the heat of the fire, barraged into shambles by the explosion of the facility's power core.

 

He has a bunk here. Well, _had_. Not that he's ever out in Switzerland for extended periods of time–it's too fucking cold–but he's slept in it a few times, while he's on extended ops or needed somewhere quiet to crash.

 

Though, he's never been particularly good at quiet, so he always fills his quarters with memories. They speak over the silence, and deafen out the media, and all of the people he's supposed to be saving. His bunk back in the states is filled to the brim with photos, newspaper articles, tokens, and the list goes on.

 

His favourite: a crumpled old photo of him and Gabriel in their early recruit days, in matching shiny uniforms, both grinning like the weight of the world is somewhere other than on their shoulders.

 

That photo has been in each corner of the world, sitting safely on an Overwatch-branded wall, until now.

 

Now, Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes are burning.

 

Jack chokes out a cough, rolling over onto his side. A tangle of the ceiling and parts of the walls come into focus nearby. _Burning alive_ , he corrects himself. _With a fucking building on their heads._

 

His glove comes away red as he scrubs a hand over his head, commanding his body to focus, to fucking _do something_ , because he's not dying today. By some force of mercy he survived the explosion, and he's sure as hell not sticking around for the inevitable collapse of the building. Of Overwatch. Of Jack Morrison.

 

Grunting, he forces himself up, and gets stuck halfway; half of the Overwatch symbol weighs him down on a piece of debris trapping one of his legs. The broken orange and white design mocks him, and doesn't budge until he yells angrily and shoves with everything left in him.

 

Then, he scrambles to his feet, swaying. Gabriel isn't anywhere in sight.

 

And it's funny, really, that that's his first thought. Not to get out, or to run or to start wondering how much he's bleeding, but to look for Gabriel Reyes. He wants to laugh, and perhaps, wonder how it came to this.

 

“Jack...?”

 

“Where are you, you bastard?”

 

A bloodied hand appears a good few feet away, like a beacon in amongst the wreck the two of them made of their lives. It grasps up at the smoke, and then disappears back into the burning wreck.

 

Still, Jack treks carefully over, placing his unsteady steps deliberately to avoid the burning fires and twisted pieces of metal. His legs are shaky, and he can hear his heart in his ears.

 

He finds Gabriel sprawled flat on his back, shielded from the nearby flames by a wall of concrete that's narrowly missed his head. He's grinning.

 

“I think... that was my bad,” the man says.

 

Jack steadies himself on the debris, blinking hard through the smoke. “Obviously,” he answers. “I'm a good shot. The best. Wouldn't get my bullets tangled with the fucking _power core_.”

 

Gabriel breaks out laughing, which quickly evolves into a hacking cough. The smoke is getting thicker; it's settling a darkening haze over the expanse of the power core room. _It's now or forever_ , he thinks, as Gabriel blinks in and out of focus before his eyes.

 

He takes a breath; as deep as the smoke allows him. “Here's to say, Reyes, we let this place burn?”

 

“All of it?”

 

The old photograph of the two smiling Overwatch recruits in their shining armor sinks to the floor of the ruined facility, and the building groans again.

 

“I don't know.”

 

“Good.” Gabriel coughs again, and his glassy eyes finally meet Jack's. “Because I don't, either.”

 

Again, Gabriel raises his hand, and Jack makes sure he clasps on tight to pull him to his feet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
